Debit and Credit: Translated from the German of Gustav FreytagFreytag, Gustav
General
Debit and Credit: Translated from the German of Gustav Freytag
Freytag, Gustav
German fiction -- Translations into English; Mercantile system -- Germany -- Fiction; Social classes -- Germany -- Fiction
Now that the steward was fairly gone, the landlord grew more
communicative, and showed himself serviceable and obliging. A long
conversation ensued, and its purport was what Anton had apprehended from
the warning given by the Commissary Walter and other Rosmin officials.
The inspector had, during the last few weeks, done all he could in the
way of spoliation, rendered daring by a report which had found its way
from the town to the village, that the present proprietor would never be
able to take possession of the estate. At last Anton said, "What that
wretched man has done away with he will have to account for; our first
care must be to preserve what is still to be found on the property. You
must be our guide to-day."
They then examined the empty buildings. Four horses and two
servants--they were gone into the wood--a few old plows, a pair of
harrows, two wagons, a britzska, a cellar full of potatoes, a few
bundles of hay, a little straw--the inventory did not take much time in
drawing up. The buildings were all out of repair, not through age, but
neglect.
"Where is the dwelling-house?" inquired Anton. The landlord led the way
out of the yard to the meadow--a broad plain, gradually sloping down to
the level of the brook. It had been a great pasture. The cattle had
trodden it down into holes; the snouts of greedy swine had rooted it up;
gray molehills and rank tufts of grass rose on all sides.
The landlord stretched out his hand. "There is the castle. This castle
is famous throughout the whole country," he added, reverentially; "no
nobleman in the district has a stone house like that. All the gentry
here live in wood and mud buildings. Herr von Tarow, the richest of
them, has but a poor dwelling."
About three hundred yards from the last out-building rose a great brick
edifice, with a black slate roof and a thick round tower. Its gloomy
walls on this treeless pasture-land, without one trace of life around,
rose beneath the cloudy sky like a phantom fortress which some evil
spirit had evoked from the abyss--a station from which to blight all the
surrounding landscape.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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